


The Only Hope For Me Is You

by Gracefully



Category: My Chemical Romance
Genre: Cutting, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Suicide Attempt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-05
Updated: 2015-06-05
Packaged: 2018-04-03 01:24:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,544
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4081150
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gracefully/pseuds/Gracefully
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Frank burst in the door approximately five minutes after Gerard called him, and though Gerard knew it was a fifteen minute drive while going at a safe speed, he was grateful nonetheless.<br/>Frank stood, chest heaving, in the doorway. He took in the blood, the open bottle of pills, and Gerard saw his mouth fall open before the faint lines around it deepened.<br/>Gerard realized the conditions Frank drove through, and a pinprick of worry sparked at his chest. "Frankie, you didn't have to drive so fast." His voice sounded faint to his own ears, and he was beginning to feel warmth in his arms.<br/>-<br/>Gerard and Frank h/c. I regret nothing. Title is, of course, a My Chemical Romance song.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Only Hope For Me Is You

**Author's Note:**

> Well, this has taken me far too long to write. Enjoy, and leave kudos if you liked it! Constructive criticism appreciated, also this is un-beta'd, so tell me if there are any mistakes.

Gerard had the pride to admit that he was very, very grateful to Frank.

Who else, aside from Mikey and maybe Ray from the Station, would be willing to drive, probably at breakneck speeds, through the icy sleet to Gerard's second-story apartment? Who else would risk life and limb for such a stupid, hopeless cause?

Frank burst in the door approximately five minutes after Gerard called him, and though Gerard knew it was a fifteen minute drive while going at a safe speed, he was grateful nonetheless.

Frank stood, chest heaving, in the doorway. He took in the blood, the open bottle of pills, and Gerard saw his mouth fall open before the faint lines around it deepened.

Gerard realized the conditions Frank drove through, and a pinprick of worry sparked at his chest. "Frankie, you didn't have to drive so fast." His voice sounded faint to his own ears, and he was beginning to feel warmth in his arms. He squinted at the haze around Frank’s hair. “You’re fuzzy,” he said softly, a bit puzzled. Frank’s hair had always been silky and smooth.

Frank strode over, kneeling gently in between Gerard's spread legs. "How many did you take?" He asked softly, voice trembling. He glanced at the pill bottle, and Gerard felt absolutely horrid that he had the power to make Frank’s eyes widen like that.

His fingers came up to gently rest at Gerard's chin, so that Gerard had to look him in the eye. Gerard felt the first sting of guilt even stronger as he saw the worry in Frank's eyes.

Tears began to sting at the back of his eyes, and he glanced away.

"How many?" Frank asked again, guiding Gerard's head back to center. Frank's eyes were an interesting shade of hazel, Gerard thought, but right now they're tight with worry.

"Only five." Gerard mumbled. "I realized five in that I didn't want to go." His throat was swelling, making it difficult for Gerard to speak. He tried to look away, but Frank held his face steady. Instead, he looked down, to where Frank’s Converse were in the pool of blood, and that made him feel sick to his stomach. With a shuddery breath, Gerard looked back to Frank.

"I'm so sorry, Frank." He whispered, blinking away tears that threatened to spill.

"Hey, Gee, it's okay." Frank said, his thumb stroking lightly over Gerard’s cheekbone. "Let's just get you cleaned up, okay?"

Gerard nodded, letting himself get pulled up by the fingers. Frank led him from the bedroom, into the bathroom, where he sat Gerard down on the toilet seat lid and began rummaging through the cabinets.

Gerard looked down at his bloody forearms, suddenly feeling that dark wave of guilt hit him again.

"I shouldn't have dragged you into this." He said quietly.

"Nonsense." Frank replied, wetting a washcloth in the sink. He came to kneel in front of Gerard again, nudging his knees apart and scooting closer. Gerard let him in, and let him get a full view of his cut up arms. Gerard didn't miss the flicker of unease that passed across Frank's face.

Gerard closed his eyes and leaned back, letting his head rest against the wall. Frank cleaned Gerard's arms gently, so that it wouldn't hurt Gerard. The irony of the situation didn't escape Gerard. Instead of being soothing, the kindness of the gesture hurt Gerard, how Frank was so earnest to help, how he legitimately wanted the best for Gerard.

Gerard wished he had never dragged Frank into his shitstorm of a life.

When all the blood was cleaned up, Frank covered the cuts in salve, and wrapped them in gauze from wrist to elbow, effectively covering all of the cuts. When he was done, Gerard felt him pull away slightly. Gerard opened his eyes, and found that Frank was looking at him with such an in identifiable mix of emotions, it knocked the breath out of Gerard. Their eyes met for a single moment.

Frank leaned forward carefully and slipped his arms around Gerard's waist. He rested his forehead on Gerard's sternum, as Gerard hesitantly rested his biceps on Frank's shoulders, to avoid hurting his arms further. After a moment, he rested his cheek against Frank's smooth hair at the top of his head, and exhaled. The heat of it all was catching up to him, but the shame was inching forward as well. He was suddenly hyper-aware of each cut on his arms, done harshly and without much thought. He and his black cesspool of a mind felt so small, so easily triumphed-over in the wake of Frank's golden kindness.

As Gerard was slumped on the floor of his bedroom, watching the blood drip from his arms, he had reached blindly for his phone, unlocked it, and dialed the first number in his favorites. Of course, he knew that Frank was first. It was almost three in the morning, and it was starting to snow outside, but Frank was there 5 minutes later, looking harried and concerned.

Now, he knelt in between Gerard's legs, arms secure around his middle and forehead right in the center of Gerard's torso. Gerard could feel every exhale against his stomach, and he furiously blinked back tears at how he was the broken one, yet Frank was in the position of praying to him.

Gerard didn't know how long they sat there like that, syncing up their breaths and shifting to accommodate each other fully and completely.

Eventually, Frank pulled away slightly, enough to look Gerard in the face. "Let's go to bed, okay?" he said. Gerard realized then how tired he looked, how there were dark smudges underneath his eyes. He wondered if he was the cause.

Gerard nodded and let himself be pulled up and into the bedroom. Frank walked over to the dresser and pulled out a pair of Gerard's pajama bottoms and a soft cotton t-shirt of Gerard's. As Gerard clambered into bed, Frank quickly stripped and changed into Gerard's nightclothes. Even though the two had each seen the other naked, Gerard felt a stupid little blush creeping up his face. He busied himself with straightening the covers.

"The uh. The couch is currently home to several paintings, but if you want to sleep there you can clear it off."

"And why would I want to sleep on the couch?" Frank asked, pulling back the covers beside Gerard. He suddenly hesitated. "I mean, if it's okay for me to stay with you." He looked awkward and uncertain, standing there at Gerard’s bedside, wearing his clothes that were a little too big.

Gerard nodded and slid over, allowing more room for Frank. Though it would probably come out sounding stupid if he said it aloud, Gerard was very glad that Frank was staying with him.

Frank clambered in, and there was a moment or two of awkward shifting as they sought to find a comfortable balance. They ended up facing one another, legs tangled together and arms curled in between them. Their foreheads were almost touching, and Gerard had to cross his eyes a little to see Frank properly. Their breath mingled in the space between them. Gerard could've cried, he was so at peace in that moment.

"Are you sure you can stay?" Gerard asked. "Do your roommates know where you are?"

Frank nodded. "Chris was up marathoning some show, he knows where I am."

Gerard nodded, suddenly over-conscious of the gauze on his arms and what lay underneath. He whispered, feeling shame lick at his insides, "Why do you stay, Frank? I'm fucked up past redemption, and yet you always come when I call. I don’t deserve you in the least."

Frank's eyes softened and his mouth turned wistful. His hand came up to wind a stray piece of Gerard's hair around his finger.

"I've said it before and I'll say it again: because I love you. Gerard, you're not past saving, and I believe it."

Gerard couldn't help leaning into the touch as Frank played with Gerard's hair. "I love you too," he said, still feeling the thrill at those words being said to him, and him being able to say them back with absolute certainty.

"I don't deserve you," he muttered, sliding closer, so that his arms were around Frank's middle and his head was tucked under Frank's chin. Frank immediately shifted so that his arms encircled Gerard as well.

He surprised Gerard deeply by replying, "You're right, you don't deserve me." Before Gerard could ask him to explain exactly what that meant, Frank continued, "You deserve someone a lot better."

"Bullshit." Gerard muttered into Frank's collarbone. And with Frank's responding chuckle, Gerard fell asleep.

 

When Gerard awoke, the space beside him was empty, but when he stretched his hand across, it was still warm. Gerard rolled over and regarded the clock, which stated that it was 8:47. The curtains had been partially drawn, and soft sunlight was streaming into Gerard’s room, the kind of sunlight filtered through fog. He clambered out of bed, and was slapped in the face by a reality of its own: the mess from the night before.

There was brown, dried blood on the floor, and the pills were still strewn across the hardwood planks. The box cutter that Gerard was using was still on the floor, blade out and crusted with dried blood.

He felt a wave of shame overtake him, and the cuts on his arms itched all over again.

It was an odd sort of itch, it was an internal itch and an external itch, the latter was the wish to peel back the gauze and itch it as one would to a mosquito bite. The former was one similar to passages out of the Bell Jar, an itch that could only be satisfied by cutting deeper and feeling the blood drip out, flow out, pour out. It was the wish to slit the skin of Gerard's forearms from elbow to wrist, instead of side to side. It was the unattainable (others would argue contrary) wish to carve the affliction out of one’s body.

Gerard sat, gripping the edge of the mattress, blinking back hot tears. He took a shaky breath and exhaled, but still felt like if he held his breath he would feel better. Holding his breath kept his body together and whole, breathing made it feel as if he was breaking apart or shattering or something else that was all wrong.

Gerard eventually became aware of humming from the kitchen. He recognized Frank's rough morning voice in it, and a small smile teased at the edges of his lips. He stood and wandered out, running a hand through his hair.

Frank stood at the stove, poking at a pan of sizzling bacon. Gerard slunk in quietly, leaning against the counter behind Frank. Frank noticed him nonetheless, and smiled at Gerard over his shoulder.

"Did you sleep well?" He asked, ignoring his bacon in order to regard Gerard.

Gerard nodded, noticing that the coffee pot was full and hot. He grinned, pouring himself a mug of the sweet nectar. "Yeah, I guess."

Frank nodded, not needing to add anything else. He turned back to his bacon, pushing it back and forth in the pan with a spatula.

Gerard let the lull in conversation continue, content with simply being near Frank. Frank was still wearing the pajamas that he had borrowed, and it warmed Gerard far more than he expected. He was very glad that Frank had stayed, and even more glad to see that Frank was making him breakfast. It astounded Gerard, how caring and considerate and simply nice some people could be. Frank was an angel, and Gerard didn't deserve him in the slightest.

He felt the waves of shame creeping up on him, clogging his veins and clouding his mind.

Gerard felt the small smile slip off of his face, just as Frank turned away from the stove, pan in hand. Of course, because Frank was Frank, he noticed immediately. Setting the pan aside, he came to stand beside Gerard, their upper arms brushing. “Hey, Gee,” his hand came out to catch Gerard’s stray one, twining their fingers together expertly. He lightly brushed his thumb along the back of Gerard’s palm. “Hey. You know you’re not alone in this, right?”

Gerard felt hot tears at the backs of his eyes. “Yeah, I know. And I know how stupid I am to think that I am alone. The problem with this affliction is that I can see how stupid it is, but I can’t convince myself otherwise.” Gerard leaned over slightly, his forehead bumping into Frank’s chin awkwardly, before Frank pulled Gerard into his arms. Gerard sighed shakily, feeling the shame and loathe of the day drain away, as if Frank were drawing it out of his veins.

“You’re an angel.” Gerard paused. “You know that, right?”

Frank chuckled, and Gerard could feel the reverberations in his chest. “I’m no angel.” Frank said, which caused Gerard some pause. He pulled away slightly.

“You are the best and brightest and kindest individual I could ever dream of.”

“I’m just doing what anyone would do.” Frank pulled Gerard away, so that he could look into his eyes. “Gee, I’m no traditional hero. I’m just a punk with a job. You’re an artist, and a fucking amazing one at that. But above all that, I care about you so, so much.” He chuckled, and Gerard could see how deeply Frank felt these words. “I care about you enough that it scares me sometimes.”

Gerard felt a small smile creep onto his face. He leaned forward and kissed Frank lightly on the cheek. “I’m glad you’re here with me, Frank.”

Frank cupped Gerard’s face in his hands. He pressed their foreheads together, aligning their bodies. “I would choose you over literally anyone else.” Frank said with a laugh.

The two stood that way for a good while, simply basking in the love that flowed between them. They stayed that way until Frank realized that the stove was still on, and that the bacon was cold. Gerard still liked Frank, perhaps even more, when he was hopping around the kitchen, cussing, trying to flush smoke out of the house while still cooking food. It was highly endearing.

 

A year earlier, Gerard had stood on the edge of a bridge at two am, with wind in his hair and an uneasy stomach. Still, there was a sort of certainty to it, and that gave Gerard a sense of relief. He had methodically dialed Frank’s number, left a brief but concise message, and then threw the phone into the middle of the bridge. Though he was nervous, he felt oddly numb at the fact that he was actually doing it.

He carefully clambered onto the railing, feeling the wind whip his face and hair and hands. The water churned far below him, dark and powerful. His mind was making similar movements, turning against itself and smashing into rocks ceaselessly.

A car whizzed by, honking loudly with a jeer coming from the driver. Gerard felt tears wet his face, and heard the echoes of the jeer long after it faded. Gerard could hear his cell phone buzzing insistently in the middle of the road. He turned, feeling a gust of wind tip him ever closer to the water. His phone lay in the road, screen obviously cracked but still functional. Gerard considered running to it for a single second, before it stopped buzzing. Gerard turned back to the ocean, feeling a shivering start in his veins. It was December, and he only wore jeans and a thin coat. Flakes of snow were beginning to fall from the sky, landing softly in Gerard’s hair or stinging his face. Gerard’s hand were cold where they gripped the railing.

In the silence, his phone began to buzz again. “Be quiet, Frank.” Gerard murmured, trying to shut out the noise. It continued, and with a quick breath, Gerard turned to look at it. He could see Frank’s picture on the front, the one they had taken last Christmas when both of them had gotten a little drunk and a little affectionate. Gerard had cropped himself out of the picture when he chose it for Frank’s contact info, but he knew he was there. Gerard sat on the couch, and Frank hung over the back, arms around Gerard’s neck. He had just looked away from Gerard, and his eyes sparkled with merriment and alcohol. The Gerard in the picture was looking at Frank, a soft look in his eyes.

The buzzing stopped. Gerard felt relieved, then sad and a little hopeless. He peered over the edge of the railing, feeling the cold metal seep through his jacket and into his stomach. His eyes felt too hot, his hands too cold, and the healing cuts on his forearms felt like they should be torn open again, that the stitches should be ripped out and his skin should be flayed.

His phone was buzzing again. “Shut up!” Gerard shouted, turning suddenly to the phone. He was breathing heavily, and another car drove by. It slowed down when it passed Gerard, and he could see the driver peering at him. The car sped up again, leaving Gerard in its wake. Gerard steeled himself and stepped onto the railing, swinging his leg over. He carefully gripped the railing, which Gerard found ironic, considering what he wanted--was going--to do. He swung his second leg over, leaning out over the edge. The water was dark and white-capped.

Snow had settled into Gerard’s hair, melting down his scalp and into the collar of his jacket. There was a dark pit in his stomach, dragging his soul closer and closer to the water beneath. Gerard shut his eyes, feeling a hot tear slip down his cheek. His toes curled into thin air, only his heels and his hands on the railing were keeping him above the sea.

A third car came, screeching to a halt. Gerard didn’t even turn. A car door slammed, and Gerard heard Frank, ever-caring Frank, shouting, “Thank god! Gerard!”

Frank ran closer and Gerard didn’t move. His soul felt heavy, his eyelids heavier. Tears welled from underneath them, and Gerard let them slip out, breath heaving through his chest. Frank’s hands were suddenly on the back of his jacket, carefully pulling him away from the inevitable end. Gerard let himself be pulled away, let himself be helped back over the railing. He couldn’t meet Frank’s eyes, he could barely hear the stream of babble that Frank was carrying on with.

As soon as he was on two steady feet, Gerard slid down, leaning back against the railing. Frank knelt between his legs, and Gerard finally looked up into his face. Frank had tears streaming from his eyes, and Gerard could barely stand it. To think that he had caused this, that he was the one responsible for Frank’s tears…

“I’m so sorry, Frankie,” Gerard whispered, reaching out slightly. Frank pulled Gerard close, hugging him so tightly that Gerard felt like he couldn’t breathe. He sobbed, feeling a great wave of relief pass through him. The snow was falling in earnest, and Gerard realized that Frank was only wearing a sweater as well. “Frank,” he started, pulling away slightly.

Frank’s eyes were red and he was still crying a little bit. “Yeah?” he sniffled, keeping both hands securely on Gerard, as if he was afraid Gerard would get away from him if he ever let go.

“You’re not wearing a jacket,” Gerard said, eyebrows drawing together. “Are you cold?” he asked.

Frank laughed shortly and abruptly, which startled Gerard. “I’m fine, G. I’m more worried about you.” He scooted closer, bringing both hands up to cup Gerard’s face. “I love you.” he said quietly, touching their foreheads together. He pressed a soft kiss to Gerard’s forehead, then to each of his cheeks, then his nose, saying in between each kiss, “You. Are. Not. Worthless.”

Gerard felt like crying, he was so overwhelmed by the outpouring of love from the man in front of him. It was too much, it was too pure, and Gerard was not worth it in the slightest. He pressed his face into the warm skin of Frank’s collarbone, slipping his hands around Frank’s waist. “I’m so sorry, Frankie.” he whispered.

“Let’s go home, ok?” Frank asked kindly. Gerard nodded, feeling the wind at his back and Frank’s back underneath his hands. They got up together, hobbling to Frank’s car, which was still running. He had parked haphazardly, and his door was still open. Frank brushed snow off of his seat before he hopped inside, helping Gerard get his seatbelt on. As they drove away from the bridge and back to Gerard’s apartment, Frank twined his free hand with Gerard’s letting them rest on top of the console. They drove like that for the rest of the ride.

 

Thinking back on that, Gerard felt a small smile creep onto his face. Watching Frank jump around, trying to prepare breakfast for them while not lighting stuff on fire, Gerard felt remarkably certain that things would eventually work out for the best.


End file.
